Travel, Dance, Minimalism (Some poetry, some books, some art)

confessional poetry

A mile is a lot farther when you don’t have feet. What did people do before airplanes? I guess horizons meant more. There were some things that were unimaginable.

I know a man without feet. Sometimes he asks the aides to clip his toenails, and then laughs at them. He went to a meeting once (regarding whether he was satisfied with his care). He didn’t talk for those 30 minutes. Just sang. “My liiiiiiitle buckarooooooooooo.” Bitterness//absent, he’s a miracle like the kind that make you believe in God again.

His horizons though. I’ve been more of a caged bird than him (yeah that time I don’t talk about). You can almost never escape yourself, and I’d feel foolish for trying, but then again I used to be in that business, trying as a full time job, no benefits, no retirement plan.

Lately .. Getting these bars to mutate into something though.

Sometimes I can see the sun from here. Sometimes I can hear the clouds.

stars—–time traveler. The past is looking more and more surreal every day.you ever find yourself crying on an examination table to a doctor who insists you’re only sad because it’s winter?you ever find yourself unable to even disagree because your confidence level is zero and you have de-evolved to something almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew you before?—————-Submit to love without thinking,as the sun this morning rose recklesslyextinguishing our star-candle minds.-Rumi